


Car Wash

by SammysGirl666



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Sam, Canon Divergence, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex on the Impala, Supernatural Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 23:42:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5109800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SammysGirl666/pseuds/SammysGirl666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The car wash scene as it would've happened if I was a writer on SPN.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Car Wash

Dean’s soaping up the Impala for a second time when Sam walks in, grabs a sponge, and begins to help him. It’s fairly routine. Sam never really minds helping out with the car despite whatever complaints he may make. At least, Dean figures if Sam didn’t like it, he wouldn’t do it. Still, it warms something in Dean to watch Sam take care of Baby like she’s something precious. She is, even if Sam hasn’t always thought so.

They exchange a few words as Dean asks about Castiel’s health and Sam tells Dean that they might have a case. But Sam knows that this isn’t Dean’s favorite time to have discussions so they put a pin in the conversation and continue to wash Baby in silence. While he’s soaping down the doors, Sam makes a little huffy sound and looks down at his shirt, scrunching up his eyebrows at the big wet spot on the front.

“This might go a little better with our shirts off,” Dean says, looking down at his own sopping wet shirt. Sam nods his agreement and they both strip their shirts off. Truthfully, Dean doesn’t know he didn’t start like this. It’s not like he’s shy about his body and washing the car is much easier without his shirt sticking to his skin uncomfortably.

But then Dean looks at Sam and it takes him all of five seconds to reconsider his decision. He realizes, then and there, how long it’s been since he’s seen Sam without his shirt off. The younger hunter is still a little thin for Dean’s liking, but he’s gorgeous. His perfectly carved abdomen has softened some over the years but, if anything that just makes him look even better. His broad shoulders and chest are more scarred than they used to be but still look soft and promising.

This is different than the last time Dean saw Sam shirtless. They’re both older and their bodies are changing. But damn it all if Sam isn’t still the hottest thing on two legs to Dean.

“You gonna help out here?” Sam asks, raising an eyebrow at him. Dean snaps out of ogling and mutters a hasty apology before taking his sponge and continuing to scrub down the exterior of the car.

He and Sam haven’t been together since Sam came back from hell. Has it really been that long? _Four_ years? Dean remembers when Sam was just a kid, all angles and elbows and hasty orgasms made up for by even hastier erections. They started sleeping together before Sam left for Stanford and that had been the longest they’d been separated until now. All at once, Dean can’t even remember why they stopped. Every excuse he’s conjured up over the years suddenly seems flimsy in the face of it all.

Sam is here, shirtless, and within arm’s reach. There was a time when Sam was like a drug for Dean, like the greatest strain of the purest drug that anyone can pump into their system. And right now, he’s having a relapse. Maybe the craving never really went away. Maybe it’s just been bubbling up underneath the surface all this time.

There are bigger things to think about right now. The Darkness. Castiel getting better. All the monsters that still need killing…

But Dean’s an addict. An addict that’s been on the wagon for a few years, sure, but an addict nonetheless.

And a junkie always needs his fix.

Everything aside from seducing Sam leaves Dean’s head just then. There’s a chance that Sam will reject him. That’s always a possibility. A lot has happened in these last four years, a lot of really messed up and unforgivable shit. But Dean has this gut feeling and, at the very least, he has to try.

So when Sam bends over the hood of the car, that perfect body curving gracefully over the shining black metal, Dean makes his move.

He sidles up behind Sam and the younger hunter doesn’t react, except to shoot Dean a glance out the corner of his eye. Dean puts his hands on those beautiful, narrow hips, and the younger man’s movements halt. Sam inhales sharply, but doesn’t react otherwise.

“How long’s it been, Sammy?” Dean asks, even though he knows, could tell you in minutes and hours.

“Dean,” Sam gasps, pushing his hips back ever so slightly, but it’s enough to get a rise out of Dean.

“Too long, right, baby brother?” Dean asks, his voice dropping low and gravelly, that pitch that he knows turns Sam’s crank like nothing else.

There this moment and it’s probably only a few seconds but, to Dean, they’re the longest few seconds of his life. This is where Sam gets to push him away, tell him no, tell him that there is no going back. For a second, Dean’s sure it will happen. Sam’s body tenses and Dean’s sure he’s going to be pushed away.

But then Sam just melts. He lets go, letting his body fall onto the hood, smearing the soap with his chest as he pushes his hips back again. He tilts his neck, offering himself and then he looks back at Dean, hazel eyes shining, and he whispers, “It’s been too long.”

Dean goes from hard to aching in his jeans and he drops his head forward, groaning into the back of Sam’s neck.

“I know baby brother,” he grunts, “I know. But don’t worry. I’m gonna take care of ya.”

The soapy water quickly insinuates itself between their bodies, creating a slick that allows Dean to slide down his brother’s body as he falls to his knees so that he’s face to face to Sam’s jean-clad ass.

It’s been four years but it might as well have been four days. For all the new and interesting thing about Sam’s body, Dean still reads it like a road map. The same mole is at the small of his back, the same back-dimples, the same narrow hips, and the same perky butt. Sam works his hands between himself and the hood the car so he can undo the button and zipper of his jeans. Dean yanks them down with the boxer briefs that are under them to reveal Sam’s perfect, round but.

Dean wants so badly to put his mouth on it, to get his tongue so deep inside Sam that he tastes the back of his throat. But neither of them were expecting this which means Sam didn’t clean up and Dean will do some nasty things but he has his standards.

Instead, he straightens back up and removes his shorts and underwear. Then he stands over Sam, hard aching cock poking at that round ass. He gathers up some of the soap-water from the hood in his palms and runs it all over Sam’s body, watching the soapy glistening trails that it leaves on Sam’s body. There’s something unreasonably sexy about this, about Sam bent over the hood, the white soap on his body clashing beautifully with the black and shiny exterior of the car.

He’s had wet dreams about this, he’s sure.

He growls and pulls away, ignoring Sam’s sound of dissent. He digs a packet of lube out of his jeans and tears it open with his teeth.

“I don’t got any condoms on me, Sammy,” Dean says as he pours lube over his fingers. “That gonna be okay?”

“Perfect,” Sam rasps. “I trust you, Dean.”

Dean’s cock twitches and a drop of precome drips onto the floor. He groans. This isn’t going to last long. It’s been four years, four years and Dean feels like he’s rushing it, like he isn’t taking enough time to appreciate Sam’s body and the sweet sounds that he makes. But there will be time for that later. At least, he hopes there will be.

He takes his lubed up fingers and slips one inside Sam, surprised to feel how tight it is. It really has been a while. He withdraws the finger, reapplies some lube, and tries again. This time, his finger slips in easily. Sam makes a happy sound grinds his hips backward to try and get more of Dean’s finger inside him.

“So tight, Sammy,” Dean comments as he works in a second finger. This one clearly burns a bit more as Sam’s shoulders tense but Dean keeps working them in and out slowly, trying to find that spot that will drive his little brother wild.

“There hasn’t been anyone but you,” Sam says through a moan. “Never been fucked by anyone but you.”

Dean feels like he’s about to come on the spot if Sam keeps talking. So he takes Sam’s lips in a brutal kiss and crooks the fingers he has in the younger man’s ass. Sam cries out, pulling away from the kiss and resting his forehead on the Impala.

“There,” Sam moans as if his reaction wasn’t answer enough.

The third finger goes in easier now that Sam’s body is lax with pleasure. Dean feels like he’s about to blow any second but he needs to hold out until he can get inside of Sam.

“You ready, baby brother?” Dean asks, already removing his fingers because he’s pretty sure he knows the answer.

“Yes,” Sam groans, “God yes, please, Dean.”

Dean complies, can’t deny such a pretty plea. He positions his cock at Sam’s open, lubed up hole and pushes inside. Sam is tight, so tight that Dean almost hesitates but the younger hunter is rocking back, making it almost impossible for Dean to stop. The burn must be unbearable but Dean’s never really been a bottom so he can’t speak for Sam who seems to love taking cock…Dean’s cock, specifically.

Once he’s bottomed out, Dean stills for a second. He traces his eyes along Sam’s back, trying to take in all the little difference but Sam is impatient and pleasure is clouding his brain and he can only be still for so long before carnal desire takes over. It’s brutal than Dean might’ve liked their first time after four years to be.

But Sam’s body just opens for him and Sam, himself, is driving his hips back on Dean’s cock like he can’t get enough of it, shouting “there” on every other thrust. The soap-water around them is making a mess of their fucking and soap is getting everywhere as Sam slaps a hand onto the hood, dragging it down the smooth surface as he lets out a sob of pleasure.

The heat of Sam around him is familiar and brand new all at once, and he feels the drug creep back into his veins, the deep-seeded need that’s always been there is being satiated and after this, Dean isn’t sure he can give it up again. This is the final relapse, the point of no return. He can’t lose this again, won’t. And it isn’t just the pleasure, but Sam, opening himself up to Dean. It’s the physical closeness, the way they turn each other on. It’s everything. It’s them.

And Dean can’t lose it. Not again.

So he drives into Sam harder, so hard he’ll be felt for days. Sam reaches back to grab at some part of Dean and his other hand slaps the hood of the car again, hard. And then he’s throwing his head back and coming in long, thick spurts across the hood the car, the white milky fluid mixing with the soap water and sliding down the black metal.

The sight alone is enough to set Dean off, but Sam clenches hot and tight around him which makes it even more exquisite when he shoots off inside of the younger man. His ears ring with pleasure and it takes him a minute to come down but when he does, Sam pulls his head in for a kiss. Sam’s always liked kissing. Dean likes it too but Sam’s the kind of guy who can spend a whole night just kissing and nothing else. So Dean lets Sam kiss him until the younger man has had his fill before they finally pull apart.

They’re covered in soap water and the Impala is still covered in it as well. Loose-limbed after his orgasm, Dean does a half-assed job of finishing up the car wash and he swears he’ll come back later and finish it up right. But he has more important things to concern himself with now.

“C’mon Sammy, let’s go shower.” Sam’s waiting by the garage door, naked and looking like he’s ready for a nap. But there’s still come leaking out of his ass so he nods his head in agreement and lets Dean lead him down the hallways to the showers where they may (if Dean gets his way) go for round two. 


End file.
